


Raise Hell (can't stay away)

by SageMasterofSass



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Blood, Cryptid hunter!Robert, Dead animals, Divorce, Graphic Description of Corpses, Hunting, I mean they're animal corpses but still, M/M, Mary/Robert brotp, More tags to be added, Robert and Jospeh never slept together for one, With a few small tweaks here and there, creature!fic, i love them being friends okay, mostly canon, no cults here no siree, ridiculous cryptid theories
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 01:52:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11613459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SageMasterofSass/pseuds/SageMasterofSass
Summary: Cryptid Confirmed.Or the one where Robert goes hunting and gets a little more than he bargained for.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So uh,,, I kind of ended up in this ship by accident but...here I am??? And now I'm working on this fic. I have no idea if there's any kind of fandom for it or anything but hopefully someone reads and enjoys this! 
> 
> shout out to gura for proof-reading and helping me plot this monstrosity of an idea

A loud snap echoes through the night air, and Robert winces at the sudden sound. Around him the quiet buzz of forest life quiets, anticipating further movement. He waits alongside it, both him and the forest holding their breath. Eventually the buzz of insects cautiously returns, followed by the fainter sounds of the small things living in the underbrush. Only then does he continue on his way. 

Damn twigs, always ruining his stealth. 

It’d be easier if he allowed himself the use of a flashlight, but he finds them to be such hindrances. Outside the light they cast everything grows dark and impenetrable, ominous, meaning he can’t see anything not directly in the flashlight’s glow. Plus, it usually disturbs the natural wildlife and makes him an easy target. 

Instead, Robert restricts himself to outdoor ventures under the light of almost, but not quite, full moons. Sure he keeps a low-wattage flashlight on his belt, but it’s mostly for identifying hard to see details. Like tracks. Or blood splattered foliage. 

And the dark splatters on that plant  _ definitely  _ look like blood from here. 

Interest piqued, he moves closer and then winces as he steps on yet another twig. Shit. Normally he’s so good at this. Must be something about these woods; they’ve given him bad vibes since he got to the area. Maybe they’re protective of whatever is spilling large amounts of blood on innocent, by-standing ferns. 

He clicks on the flashlight, notes the bright crimson sheen of the splatters, and tries to follow them to their source. It’s kind of odd, really. Usually when an animal is killed there’s some trampled bushes, a little trodden underbrush where the struggle occurred. But there’s none of that in the immediate vicinity.

What’s left of the poor deer’s body is several yards away, almost like something large lumbered away from it’s meal, not dripping blood, but perhaps it opened it’s maw to lick it’s lips and what remained of its lunch came tumbling back out. 

Messy eater. 

And the deer was certainly eaten, though there’s not much flesh left on the bones. It’s on its side, head tossed back and antlers glowing stark white in the leaf-filtered moonlight. The nose is dark and glossy looking, blood seeping from its nostrils, mouth, the eyes gone glassy and unfocused with death. From the neck up it looks relatively untouched, but the body and hind-end have obviously been ravaged by something quite large. 

Bones still yellow from recently attached flesh peak out of hide bearing the marks of something long and wicked. Teeth, maybe claws, but probably teeth. The bones themselves look untouched though, not chewed on like some predators are want to do, and strangely enough most of the internal organs remain. They’ve been pulled from the body, almost tossed aside as an after thought, which makes Robert think this has to be a recent scene. It had to have happened tonight, not long ago, because any longer and other predators would have come to scavenge. 

Carefully stepping over what looks like a liver, he tries to scan the area for tracks of any kind. Obviously there’s the cloven prints of the deer, and quite a few too, like it had been disoriented and unsure of what direction to go in. But no predator. He even combs the area again with the flashlight to be sure, but still nothing. 

So he’s got a body, partially eaten but with an odd, conscious precision, unusual blood splatters, and no signs of coyotes, mountain lions, or any of the area’s other natural carnivores. 

Cryptid confirmed. 

 


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup y'all. I'm back pretty quick with the first chapter, but mostly b/c the prologue was so damn short. I can promise the second chapter won't be ready near as fast as this (think like, a week or more for updates from here on out). 
> 
> Anyways, a quick word about the world i'm writing here. i'm kind of operating under canon rules, or what canon would be like if Robert didn't live in the cul-de-sac with the other dads and instead roams the country cryptid hunting. Everything's the same, just minus robert I guess?? As in, he and Joseph haven't met yet, and they certainly haven't slept together, but Robert does know Mat because he frequents the coffee shop. if that makes sense? hopefully it does.

“Since when do you  _ read _ ?” 

Robert sighs, rubbing at the bridge of nose as Mary gracelessly collapses next to him. He’d picked a booth at the back of the bar where he’s been nursing a beer ever since in the hopes that everyone will leave him alone tonight. 

But of course not. 

“It’s research,” he replies dryly, and closes the heavy tome on the table in front of him. 

Mary flicks her painted nails, unimpressed. “Does this have to do with whatever the hell you’re hunting?” 

_ She looks tired _ he thinks when he turns to face her. Wan, kind of pale, dark circles under her eyes. Her customary glass is already in hand, the liquid inside as rich and dark as blood. He’d actually thought she was a vampire upon first meeting her, but no. She just gets a kick out of dropping little hints and watching the astute freak out. Like him. 

He’s got a broken stake of wood somewhere on the floor of his truck that she’d snatched from him the night he’d tried to test the theory. The plan hadn’t been to actually stab her with it; vampire or not, he likes Mary. She’s a good friend, as drunk and miserable as she usually is, and he has very few friends these days. 

He’d pulled the stake out more as an incentive to get her to fess up to him than anything else. She’d laughed at him instead, broke it in half with her bare hands, called him a fucking idiot, and then told him he was the only person to fall so hard for such a stupid prank. He’s been platonically head over heels for her ever since. 

Except he could really do without her bothering him tonight. He’s pretty sure he finally knows what’s been prowling the woods out here and he’s gotta read up on it. With how often he’s prowling the woods himself, he’s bound to run into the damn thing eventually (hopefully anyways) and he’d like to know in advance if it’s going to try and eat his face or not. 

With a lot of cryptids, the answer would be yes. But besides some gruesome looking deer corpses (and on one surprising occasion, a mountain lion) the thing doesn’t seem particularly malicious. Maybe it’s just feeding itself and minding it’s own business. Certainly nobody’s gone missing from town, and in such a tiny place he’d absolutely hear about any mysterious disappearances.  

One of the many reasons he prefers hunting in more rural areas than big cities. 

“Maybe,” he finally responds, way too long after Mary had asked the initial question. 

“You’ve been hunting this thing for months,” she says, swirling her glass of wine idly. “I thought you were a professional or something. Shouldn’t you have already...I don’t know, posted a blurry, inconclusive picture on your blog and gotten famous when it went viral?”

“First, I don’t have a blog.” 

An inelegant snort from Mary; Robert glares at her before continuing. “And second, I’m not interested in proof or pictures. I don’t do this because I’m trying to get famous or prove the existence of fucking Bigfoot.” 

“Yeah yeah yeah, you do it for your own intellectual benefit or whatever,” Mary drawls. “Which doesn’t make any sense, but who am I to judge you.” 

Without missing a beat Robert deadpans, “You and I both know you’re the biggest judgmental bitch ever.” It makes Mary toss her head back and laugh, and he can’t help smiling back at her. 

“Damn straight. And you’re going to love every second of me judging you.” 

“No, I’m just going to judge you back.” 

“You’ll still love me dragging you.” 

“...okay, maybe a little.” 

That makes Mary smirk triumphantly at him. “Just admit it Robert, you love me and my bitchiness, can’t get enough even.” 

“Watch it Mary Christiansen, you are a married woman.” 

Robert winces pretty much as soon as the words are out of his mouth, but Mary just grimaces and takes a sip of her wine. 

“Don’t fucking remind me,” she grumbles, then straightens her spine as she prepares for one of her infamous complaint speeches now that he’s reminded her of her favorite topic. Anyone who comes to Tim and Kim’s long enough has heard at least one, if not a few hundred. 

Instead of a list of vile grievances by one soon to be ex-husband, what comes out is, “He’s throwing another fucking barbecue this weekend and I swear to god that I can’t do it, Robert. I can’t fucking do it.”

Robert raises an eyebrow at her, but doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even glance at him, just barrels on forward. 

“We’re in the middle of the messiest divorce to ever divorce, and he’s still trying to play perfect daddy with the neighbors!” She lowers her voice and thins her mouth, squaring her shoulders so dramatically is causes her wine to spill a little. “Hi, my name is Joesph McDick and rather than face reality I’m going to throw a party and make dad puns while standing around drinking beer with the other miserable assholes who live near me. Hur dur be dur!” 

“Hey,” Robert cuts in, catching Mary’s attention, “that’s not fair. How do you know the other dads are all miserable too? Maybe they just come to laugh at Joseph.” 

For a moment Mary seems to consider this idea, but then shakes her head. “No. They’re miserable too, definitely. They’re all...smiling and not heavily inebriated and have good relationships with their children.” 

Robert hums, stretching an arm along the back of the booth and relaxing back into the fake leather. “I’m pretty sure that’s called being a responsible adult,” he says after a moment, which earns him a stink eye from Mary. 

“Well it’s disgusting,” she sniffs, and then downs the rest of her wine in one go. Impressive, considering the glass was almost half full. Then she slumps into Robert’s side with zero grace and a surprising amount of weight. 

Used to her antics, Robert just drops his arm from back of the booth onto her shoulders, patting her consolingly. She smells like alcohol and expensive perfume. Knowing her that perfume was probably a gift from Joseph. She gets a kick out of irony, and what’s more ironic than wearing a gift from your husband while you go cruising for other men? 

He’d feel kind of bad that he plays wing-man for her affairs if she hadn’t told him that she knows Joseph is also cheating. Also Robert’s morals aren’t great. He’s man enough to admit that to himself. 

“Why can’t you be into women,” Mary laments sadly into his chest. Her face is kind of smooshed against his pec. It doesn’t look comfortable. 

“I am into women,” he replies dryly. “I have a kid. Those don’t just magically pop into existence you know.” 

“Shhhh,” she says, one hand weakly patting at his face. “We’re pretending you’re gay, not pan. If you’re gay it’s okay that we’re not into each other and we can keep being sad.” 

“That makes zero sense.” 

He gets a weak grumble in reply and then they lapse into silence. Mary is a warm, comfortable weight against him, and his beer’s gone a little flat but it’s still good. After a while he glances back at the bar and notices the fresh face sitting among all the regulars. 

“Mary,” he calls, gently jostling the woman beside him. She glares at him a moment but then sits up, pushing her hair behind her ears and straightening her spine like she wasn’t just slumped over someone else looking for emotional support. 

“What?” 

Robert nods towards the guy at the bar, then raises an eyebrow. “Fresh meat.” 

Slowly Mary turns to consider the man, eyes gone sharp like a predator. The corner of her painted lips pull up into a smirk as she glances back up at Robert. “Perfect. Don’t wait up for me, doll.” With a quick kiss to his cheek she’s gone, sidling up to her prey with a hair toss and a sharp smile. Emotional mess to seductress in point two seconds flat.

Robert snorts and turns back to his beer. Poor guy’s not going to know what hit him. 

He’s flipping through his book to find where he left off (the chapter after wendigos, he’s positive) when his phone vibrates in his pocket. 

Bloody Mary:  _ almost forgot! _

_ i wanat u to cum to the bbq w/ me  _

Glancing up, he notices her still at the bar, still smiling and talking to the new guy. He can’t even see her phone on her, how the hell? And yet when he glances down, there are more texts awaiting him. 

_ pls pls pls!!! _

_ i cant live thru another one alone _

_ ill kill myself _

_ wait no, i’ll kill joseph  _

_ on second thought, no don’t come _

Me:  _ why do i have to go?  _

Bloody Mary:  _ b/c ur a supportive and caring friend?  _

Me:  _ jokes on you, i’m none of those things  _

Bloody Mary:  _ u raised a 24yo daughter so obvs caring and supportive  _

_ also i drooled on ur shirt and i know u know i did _

_ if thats not friendship i dont know what is  _

Uh, no, he didn’t actually know that. But sure enough when Robert glances down, there’s a small wet spot on his shirt. That’s...yeah, that’s pretty gross. He’s so getting her back for that. Maybe some wine on an expensive dress. 

Me:  _....is there free food?  _

Bloody Mary:  _ is that a trick question??? _

_ its a fukin bbq YES theres free food!!! _

Me:  _ ugh fine whatever ill go _

He gets a spam of heart and kissy face emojis for what feels like twenty minutes, to the point that eventually he just puts his phone on silent and slides it back into his pocket. That woman, he swears. 

Ah, he’d have probably already left Maple Bay if it wasn’t for her. 

Her, and the thing he’s hunting. 

The problem with this particular field of work is that he never knows if he’s stumbled across something actually cryptid, or just plain supernatural. The former is specific; it’s a creature with local legends weaved into it’s very existence, sometimes the stories even shaping the creature itself. Supernatural beings are almost boring in comparison, just your typical ghosts, werewolves, etc. Not that he’d stop a hunt just because his quarry turns out to be supernatural, but cryptids and their homespun legends are just so much more...fascinating. 

And he thinks he might finally have this one pinned down. Maple Bay might be a little out of the way for Goatman, a little far from home, but it wouldn’t be the first time Robert’s found a crytpid straying from their usual haunts. Even the creepy need a little change of scenery. 

And yeah, okay Goatman is, by all accounts, supposed to wander around attacking people with an axe. But even cryptids have to eat, and maybe he’s evolved some wicked teeth or something. This is prime werewolf lore country after all, maybe Goatman just picked up a few extra accessories while visiting. It’s got to be him though, Goatman is pretty much the only creature Robert’s been able to find information on that would be able to leave behind cloven footprints while also being violent. Because even when he found the mountain lion body it still looked like a deer had trampled all over the scene. 

Okay, so it’s not a great theory. But it’s the best he’s fucking got right now. 

An hour or so later and Robert’s eyes are starting to cross on the page. Not that the book has been that helpful; the best cryptid information is always online. But sometimes he likes to feel like he’s doing proper old school research, even if it turns out to be a bit of a waste of time. Like this. 

At least the beer was good. 

With a sigh he decides to pack it up and go home. He passes the bar, waving goodbye to Neil and noting that yes, Mary has gone home with someone for the night. The fresh meat probably, but there’s always the chance she found an old hookup, or even dragged a few other other people along for the ride. 

It’s approaching two in the morning when he steps out onto the street. Robert lights a cigarette and heads back to the ramshackle apartment he’s been calling home. 

**Author's Note:**

> anyways, come yell at me about daddies on [tumblr](http://scribespirare.tumblr.com/).


End file.
